“What happened to it?”

“Forget it. It’s long gone. Sold to a dealer. Who knows how many times it’s changed hands since then?”

“Pity. But at least we know it was in his possession when he died.”

“You said the photo was evidence,” Michelle said, “but what of? How?”

“Well, there might have been fingerprints on it, but I think it was more dangerous because people would have known where it was taken. I doubt there are that many Adam fireplaces around, and probably none quite as distinctive as that one. The rug, too.”

“You’re thinking of the Mandeville house?”

“Sounds a likely place to me. I’m certain it was all connected: Fiorino’s porn business, his escort agency, the Mandeville parties, Graham’s murder. I think this is where we turn off.”

Michelle kept going.

“The junction’s coming up,” Banks said. “Here. Move over or you’ll miss it. Now!”

Michelle waited and made a last-minute lane change. Horns blared as she sped across two lanes of traffic to the off-ramp.

“Jesus Christ!” said Banks. “You could have got us killed.”

Michelle flashed him a quick grin. “Oh, don’t be such a pussycat. I knew what I was doing. This way we can be certain no one’s following us. Where now?”

When his heart rate slowed, Banks picked up the street guide and directed Michelle to the pleasant suburban semi where Ex-DC Geoff Talbot enjoyed his retirement.

Talbot answered the door and asked them in. Michelle introduced herself and Banks.

“Miserable day, isn’t it?” Talbot said. “One wonders if summer will ever arrive.”

“Too true,” said Banks.

“Coffee? Tea?”

“A cup of tea would be nice,” Michelle said. Banks agreed.

Michelle and Banks followed Talbot into the kitchen, which turned out to be a bright, high-ceilinged room with a central island surrounded by tall stools.

“We can talk here, if it’s all right with you,” Talbot said. “My wife keeps pestering me for a conservatory, but I don’t see the need. On a nice day we can always sit outside.”

Michelle looked out of the window and saw the well-manicured lawn and neat flower beds. Someone in the family was obviously a keen gardener. A copper beech provided some shade. It would indeed have been nice to sit outside, but not in the rain.

“You didn’t give me much of an idea what you wanted to talk about over the telephone,” Talbot said, looking over his shoulder as he dropped a couple of tea bags into the pot.

“That’s because it’s still a bit vague,” Michelle said. “How’s your memory?” She and Banks had agreed that, as it was her case and he had no official capacity, she would do most of the questioning.

“Not so bad for an old man.”

Talbot didn’t look that old, Michelle thought. He was carrying a few pounds too many, and his hair was almost white, but other than that his face was remarkably unlined and his movements smooth and fluid. “Remember when you served on the Cambridge Constabulary?” she asked.